


In the Light of the Dying Sun

by LilyFire



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt, Platonic Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyFire/pseuds/LilyFire
Summary: A deeper look into that beautiful scene where Hild comforts Uhtred in the meadow in the light of the dying sun
Relationships: Hild & Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Hild/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Kudos: 7





	In the Light of the Dying Sun

She looked at him through the burning embers of the firelight. Blood matted his tawny locks, stripping the tresses of their boastful shine. His hands were worn nearly to the bone, ripped and shredded from months of wretched labor aboard the slave ship. The regality that had once cloaked him now lay threadbare across hunched shoulders. She could see the gaunt strain of his cheekbones as his weathered skin was pulled taut from starvation. His eyes ghosted across the fire, staring into a past that only he could see. Willing _what_ Hild could only guess, for his stare was as vacant as the war-torn kingdom he left behind.

“Alec.”

The name upon his chapped lips was that of his fallen friend, a fellow slave he had been too late to save.

Her companions bowed their heads.

“You will say words for him, Hild.”

“I have. I will. Always.”

Loyal as a warrior to her last breath, the promise was one of many she would bear to her grave. God came first, but then came this heathen lord whom she loved as more than a brother.

Uhtred said no more. He did not even stir, not even blink, when her companions spoke of the kingdom’s plight. He had spent many a year bound in chains to the crown, and would not care a wit if it crumbled because of a foolish king’s pride. 

When the embers labored with their last breath, the company finally shook out their bedrolls. But sleep would not bless Hild tonight. She clutched the jagged cross that graced her vest of armor. Prayers fell from her lips but her heart was not in them, for it lay in pity with the broken man before her. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, searching for any tremble of pain or turmoil of a nightmare. She kept vigil until long after the wolves had ceased to howl at the ghoulish moon, fearful that if she closed her eyes for just a moment, he would drift away.

Uhtred woke to the warmth of the sun kissing his skin. Feathers of dew laden grass caressed the field, yielding to flowers pink as a maiden’s blush. He relaxed into the embrace of the earth, the land softer than any woman he had ever lain with. A dragonfly smaller than a child’s thumb lit upon his fingertip, and he marveled at the beauty of its beating wings.

The slosh of water slapping upon the pillowed earth dragged him from his reverie. Gentle hands braced themselves beneath his shoulders. “Up. You’ve been asleep for a day or more.”

His scars hissed at her touch, shame filling his empty belly with fire. He could not bring himself to admit his weakness, but his own body betrayed him. Beneath the soiled rags lashes of a hundred whips twisted across his flayed skin. They slithered between the breadth of his shoulders, corrupting the tattooed mark of his family crest. Wounds fresh as yesterday’s catch smeared his chest with wretched red. The crisp air of the field with its honeysuckle scent stung every scar, driving a piercing pain deep into his body.

Hild’s eyes glistened with tears as she tenderly tried to sponge away the pain. She longed to kiss each scar, to keep him safe in her arms. She ached to tell him of how she sharpened his sword every night, looking out at the sea for his return. She wanted to tell him how she fell to her knees in front of the king, begging a man she despised to let her rescue the one she loved.

But the gilded bonds of the abbey held her firmly in place. Instead, she unwrapped his sword. A spark of joy, faint as the moon in the evening sky, flickered across his face. Uhtred hefted the blade to shoulder height, and peered down the polished steel.

“She’s heavier than I remember.”

Sorrow deep as the earth’s fissures welled in his dark gaze as he struggled to hold the blade aloft. His pain closed the distance between them, and wreathed around Hild’s heart.

She cleared her throat and withdrew from the folds of her tunic a gift, “to keep you safe,” she said.

The cross glimmered with golden hope, swaying from its simple leather necklace. Though his gods feasted in Valhalla, Uhtred touched the necklace with reverence. For in giving this to him, Hild was sharing a part of herself, and now, she would always be with him.

Uhtred’s battered hand gently cupped her cheek, his eyes speaking the words he was unable to say.

Settling for an old joke he said, “Did I ever tell you are too good a woman for God alone?”

Hild smiled at the memories, and leaned her forehead against his.


End file.
